Friday, August 8, 2008

Rice farming

Updated July 3, 2010

One of the first surveyors of the Hathaway prairies, William Darby, predicted that agricultural pursuits might eventually be attempted, but the sterile land was good only for grazing cattle. Fifty years later, geologist Eugene W. Hilgard conducted a scientific survey of the Calcasieu prairies and found nearly the same results as Mr. Darby; however, Mr. Hilgard speculated the soil was suitable for rice farming, and he was right.

Rice farming on the prairies of Hathaway is a story that came from the backs of men, to the power of the equine, to the combustion of an engine. The industrialization of rice arose from plowing with a team of the four-legged to the four-wheeled tractor; from the scattering of seeds, then to the drill, and on to the airplane; from the reliance on rainfall, to the steady supply of water from the canal, to the reliability of the deep well; from cutting with the sickle and the cradle, to the thresher, to the combine; from curing in the “shock” to the more reliable drier; from collecting the harvest in burlap sacks to rice carts; from the stacks in warehouses to wooden, then steel cylinder bins; from hauling with a wagon, to the train, to the truck. Since farmers on the Hathaway prairies and others in Southwestern Louisiana have entered the competitive food supply market, they have constantly embraced new technology and processes to improve their endeavor and this innovative spirit continues today.



Providence Rice

Growing rice on a commercial scale in the United States began in South Carolina in 1685. Twenty-five years later, South Carolina was producing 1.5 million pounds of rice, and a decade after that, more than 20 million pounds. Although innovative techinques were introduced by African slave labor, the upsurge in production came from the increase of the number in bondage, not from innovations in planting (with the exception of flooding land using gates to catch fresh water pushed upriver by Atlantic tides) or the mechanization of the harvest. Because the processes for producing rice in South Carolina remained labor-intensive, the door opened for Louisiana when the workforce was emancipated. The open land and the completed railroad in South Louisiana allowed the experienced, progressive wheat farmers from Iowa and Illinois to grow a farming empire in Louisiana that has brought prosperity to the Rice Belt of the Bayou State for over a century.

The rice industry in Louisiana began shortly before the Civil War on the Mississippi Delta in the southeastern parishes of St. Charles, Jefferson, Plaquemines, and Lafourche parishes. The farmers there took advantage of new steam technology to pump water from the Mississippi River over the levees to their fields. But after the Civil War, as in South Carolina, rice production declined rapidly. Only a few areas in the Mississippi Delta continued to flourish.

About the same time, Acadians were continuing their migration across the prairies into Southwestern Louisiana. The first Acadians out of New Orleans moved to the prairies to raise cattle. Some Acadians became cattle men and grew their holdings, but most were farmers who were content to grow their families. Acadian migration was mostly for the subsistence of their close family in small, quite, patriarchal settlements. When family settlements grew large, segments of that family would move westward on the prairie to form a new settlement.

For their new settlement, Acadians generally chose to live along the treelines of rivers, bayous, and gullies that ran in a southwesterly direction on the Pleistocene plain from the Mississippi River. They chose the treeline because the thick vegetation indicated that land was fertile. They grew small patch crops like rice, sweet potatoes, cotton, and corn. Farming was not an enterprise for Acadians; it was a survival skill. They toiled for their families and neighbors. Another purpose for their toil was for bartering and trade. Much of their economy depended on bartering. Acadians did not come from a society based on money.

Before 1880, the first Acadians moved to the prairies of Hathaway and lived along Bayou Nezpique and the Grand Marais. Some did venture away from the thicket of woods to farm where they found low-lying areas along a gulley or marais. (Keep in mind that the landscape of the Hathaway prairies was much different before 1900: dredging of the bayous and draining of the marshes and gullies did not start until the early-1900's and land-levelling was not a common practice until the 1940's.) When a farmer found the right lay-of-land, he built a split rail cedar fence around a small plot (usually 5-acres or less), and planted rice. After the seed was sown, they waited. If rice grew, it was harvested. If not, there was always next year. Dependence upon the providence of nature, and not a man-made irrigation system, gave this method of rice culture the name, “Providence rice.”

When farmers planted rice on the small plots, they sowed the seed by broadcast (scattering seed by hand on the surface). After the seed was sown, farmers ran cattle or horses into the small fenced area to trample the seed into the mud. Another method of growing rice was to dig trenches about three feet apart and keep them filled with water. But this method was labor intensive and the yield was low (at about 6 barrels per acre) because the water supply depended on seasonal moisture.

To increase the amount of water for their small fenced plots, farmers began to build levees in gullies to block run-off and flood low-lying areas. Farmers also dug ditches from those reservoirs to get the water to other nearby low-lying fields. The levees had limited success because the reservoirs were shallow and the small amounts of water that were collected often evaporated off quickly. Flooded crops from these conditions made about 10 barrels per acre.

The early farmers in Hathaway harvested rice with their hands and their backs bent using a sickle. As plots went to several acres, farmers switched to a “grain cradle.” The cradle had several blades that swept down on the grain and laid the stalks down in a row for easier collection. Another advantage of the cradle was that it could be swung while standing straight. Once the stalks were cut and gathered, they were tied into bundles, also known as “sheaves.” The sheaves of rice were stacked in a cluster called the "shock." The stacks were left in the field for two weeks (12 to 14 days) to dry, also known as curing.

To cure properly, the bundles had to be stacked in a tight cluster with the heads together. The stacks were about three feet high. Then a bundle with it’s bottom spread was laid over the top to cover the grain with its own grain facing north. Stacking the bundles in this certain fashion gave the harvested rice maximum protection from the sun and rain. Nonetheless, up to 30 per cent of the crop could be lost to improper shocking or mildew. A rainy harvest season could spell doom for the crop. Farmers determined the shock was ready for threshing “by ear,” using their judgment, and even their neighbors’ judgment on the condition of the stalks and the heads.

After the rice had dried, it had to be thrashed, which means the grain had to be removed from the stalks. Before mechanized threshers, farmers removed the rice from the stalks under the hooves of oxen or horses or they flailed a double-handful of stalks over an open barrel until all the seeds were beaten off the straw. Then the chaff was removed from the rice kernel. The job for removing the chaff usually fell to the younger boys; although this process was used by housewives who prepared smaller quantities for individual meals.

To remove the chaff from the rice kernel, the process first involved a hollow stone or piece of wood where a mortar was used to crack the chaff and grind it from the rice kernel. For larger quantities, the stone and the wood became too small for the job, so a larger pestle was made by standing a short log on its end and hollowing out the other end into the shape of a bowl. For the larger pestle, the mortar was increased to the size of a wooden bat that had two oversized, elongated bulbs at each end. For both the stone pestle and the log pestle, the mortar was pushed against the bottom of the hole or bowl to loosen the chaff. To clean the chaff from the rice, the contents of the hole or bowl were emptied into a basket. Then with great skill, the rice was winnowed, which involved tossing the rice kernels into the air, letting the chaff blow away in the wind, and the clean rice fell back into the basket.

After rice production was industrialized, the quantities continued to surge and manual labor could not keep up; then came the home mill, which mechanized the pestle using a heavy wooden pounder instead of a slim pestle. The pounder was tied to the end of an eight-foot beam which sat on a fulcrum four feet from the pounder. By stepping on the other end of the beam and quickly releasing the foot, the pounder delivered a heavy blow. Then the foot stepping on the beam was replaced by rigging the beam to an “over shot wheel.” In Roman times and in other rice cultures, the over shot wheel involved a moving stream to power the wheel from above. This wheel was powered by horses tethered to a drive wheel around a vertical axel that turned a gear system that powered the over shot wheel.



The Birth of the Rice Industry in Southwestern Louisiana

The story of the industrialization of rice in Southwestern Louisiana, and on the Hathaway prairies, began when the Northerners arrived. They found a different kind of farmer than from where they had come. The Acadian farmers were not wired for industry, or to look for ways to improve the certainty of their crop, or to increase the efficiency or volume of the harvest. The Acadians had no experience with a cash crop. They came to the prairies of Hathaway with the vast experience of self-preservation. They did not seek to make their work easier to increase productivity. They were a quite society that lived off the land and sustained their lifestyle by living in close proximity to other family members, spending much of their time with family, and toiling for the needs of their family. The Northerners' knowledge was a result of years of experience. Once the knowledge of the cash crop was shared with the Acadians, many joined in its pursuit.

The Northerners came to the prairies of Hathaway with the experience of harvesting wheat as a cash crop. They applied their knowledge to make the prairies of Southwestern Louisiana more productive than the prairies they left in the Midwest. The Northerner's knowledge depended on a scientific method: When crops came in, data was collected, and if something was not quite right, they conjured a theory to know why, and what they could be done to improve their crop the next season.

An article in the October 10, 1895 edition of the Jennings newspaper exemplifies the kind of thinking that Northerners applied to their crop to figure out the root cause of a less than stellar rice crop.



Some of the rice is very light and chalky--little more than chaff; while other crops have suffered from the ravages of insects. The light and chalky rice is believed by some to be the result of the unusually hot weather during the heading season, and conditions seem to support this theory, as very poor rice is reported where an ample water supply was had throughout the season.


With this knowledge and experience, farmers could not control the temperature during heading season. But this experience would help them better predict what the hot weather would do to their crop. With this knowledge, they could find a way to improve the possibilities of a better crop in those same conditions. The most important asset for increasing production is knowledge of what hinders production, and finding ways to combat those hinderances. Some ways were successful, some were dreadful, but the experience was valuable and could be used to make better crops in the future.

One of the most important Northerners to arrive was Sylvester L. Cary in 1883. He is important to the industrialization of rice because he took it upon himself to recruit other experienced "cash crop" farmers on the possibilities of Southwestern Louisiana. After he arrived, he conducted several crop experiments to find that rice culture was the best pursuit. Land companies also brought their own agricultural experts down to survey the land. Dr. Seaman K. Knapp, who settled in Sherman, now Iowa, recommended rice. The clay "hardpan" soil on the Calcasieu prairies was retentive of moisture, making the prairies perfect for flooding, which is perfect for growing rice.

Some of Cary’s early recruits came in 1884, and the path toward mechanized rice production was begun. Maurice Bryan, a farmer from Iowa, moved to the area with a twine binder that he had used in farming wheat. Maurice Bryan was born in Westbury, Sommersetshire, England on April 30, 1854, when Napolean III was Emperor of France. When he was 16 (in 1870), he moved with his family to New York. He married Lillian Simmons of Skaneatles, New York in 1877 at the age of 23 (the same year of General Custer’s Last Stand). The next year, Bryan and his wife moved to Iowa to give farming wheat a start. Within a few years he had joined a farmer’s association that followed the promotions of S.L. Cary and moved to Southwestern Louisiana. They formed an Iowa colony in Raymond on homestead land. He lived in Jennings for a short time, and then moved to his five-acre farm in the Raymond area to begin his new venture in farming.

Mr. Bryan had tried to use the binder in the rice fields but soon encountered too many problems in the mud. He then set out to conquer the problem of bogging and a slipping drive wheel. First, he bolted lugs made out of two-by-fours to the flat steel drive-wheel to dig into the mud. Second, he added spades to the wheels to dig into the mud when the wheel hit the ground. These additions gave the sickle, reel, and canvasses more consistent power. One other interesting note about Maurice Bryan was that he was one of the first to bring Holstein cattle to the area.

The binder was a machine fronted by a reel that spun several long, horizontal bars between two spindles outward from the top and back inward at the bottom. The spindle was turned by a pulley system attached to a drive wheel. As the spindle turned, the bars leaned the stalks of rice into a cutting sheer. The cutting sheer had two pieces. The bottom piece had pronged teeth that corralled the straw and the top piece was a blade that moved back and forth across the prongs slicing the stalks. Because the reel was coming inward toward the machine, the stalks were leaning back when they were cut and they fell onto a canvass that was rotating around two pulleys that delivered the stalks up to a blocking device that gathered the stalks as they were cut and tied them up with twine when enough was gathered. As each bundle was tied, it was lifted into a storage shoot then released when the bundles numbered from 9 to 13. These were released to field hands that arranged them into the proper “shock” arrangement.

When the William Deering Co. shipped 300 of the modified binders to Lake Charles in 1886 at a retail price of $265, large scale rice farming was born. The 6-foot wide cutting device harvested 8 acres in a day, doing the work of 16 men. Four years later, farmers from Southwestern Louisiana ordered six hundred rice harvesters. By 1900, there were 4500 twine binders in use in Southwest Louisiana. In 1917, a small engine was added to the binder to drive the sickle and binding apparatus. Then all the team had to do was pull the binder, not generate torque for the sickle. The binder remained unchanged until it was phased out in the 1940’s when the combine was introduced.

With the capacity to cut more rice, farmers soon needed more efficient plowing and planting mechanisms, as well as water to increase their yield. First were the implements. Larger plow configurations were needed to increase the amount of land that could be planted. By 1890, the wheel gang plow was being used to cut land 22-27 inches wide. These plows could break two-and-a-half acres a day. The land was stirred with a square-tooth harrow before and after seeding. The theory was to plow deep, level and crush lumps, then pack the soil. Then in the first decade of the Twentieth Century came the two and three furrow gang plow, the riding gang plow (i.e., the four horse plow).

From the 1890's to the 1940's Louisiana was the highest rice producing state and was ranked either third or fourth through the 1980's. In 1890, it was estimated that more than four hundred car loads of rice were shipped out of Jennings. To demonstrate the contributions that Hathaway and the surrounding prairies made, by the late 1980's, Jeff Davis Parish accounted for 16% of Louisiana rice production.

William Henry Perrin provided a glimpse of the rice industry in 1891, when he authored Southwest Louisiana—Biographical & Historical. In it he wrote:



The editor of the Jennings Reporter gives some figures on the acreage of rice planted in that part of the parish. He estimates that between Lake Arthur on the south to China post-office north of Jennings, and between the Mermentau River, the Nezpique and Grand Marais, there will be about nine thousand acres planted in rice, which, at ten barrels per acre, will give 90,000 barrels of rice, and of this amount he expects 60,000 barrels at least or about four hundred car loads to be shipped from Jennings. Two years ago only twenty-six car loads were shipped from Jennings; last year one hundred car loads. All this rice, should Jennings not get a rice mill, would eventually find its way to Lake Charles and shipped northward on the Kansas City, Watkins & Gulf Railway. This is only a small portion of the rice acreage of this parish, and every bushel raised in the parish should be hulled on mills here instead of being shipped to the New Orleans mills.

Says the [Lake Charles] American on the same subject: There is, perhaps, no section of country better adapted to rice culture than the lands of Calcasieu. Rice culture is now attracting more attention than any other field crop. This cultivation is simple, consisting principally of planting and flooding, and the profits are large. Had we the space, we could give numerous instances of persons making enormous profits.

Mr. R. Hall, of Cherokee, Iowa, purchased one hundred and sixty acres of land for $800. Paid out for improvements about $450. Total cost of land and improvements, $1250. He rented the land for one-third, which was planted in rice, and realized for his third of rice $1500.

J.W. Rosteet reports on twenty-one acres of land planted in rice. He gives the expense of ditching, levees, fencing, planting and harvesting at $457.68. He sold his rice for $860, leaving a balance of $462.32.

In the early 1890’s, a mechanism was developed to move away from broadcasting seed by hand. The seeder distributed seed more consistently over the field by dropping seed onto a flat, spinning wheel that threw the seed out in even patches. The wheel was powered by a chain-drive that was geared to the back axel of a wagon. The seeder could seed 25 acres-a-day, using about one sack of seed every three acres.

There’s an old farmer’s saying that “a silk purse cannot be made from a sow’s ear,” in other words, good rice must come from good seed. Good seed was free from weed seed. Honduras rice was the first type of rice planted by farmers. Then, agriculturalist, Seamann K. Knapp brought seed back from Japan. Seed from Japan could better withstand the milling process. Up until World War II, the process was to save the seed from the better looking lots that entered the warehouse.

Now with the capacity of the binder to cut more rice, and the ability to spread more seed, there was a need for a more reliable water source. The Providence method could produce a large crop, but this was too speculative for the large-scale farming envisioned by the settlers from the Midwest because rainfall amounts varied from year to year. Farmers needed a consistent source of water that provided enough to cover the growing acreage that the mechanization of rice farming had brought.



Opening the Flood Gates

There was plenty of water in Bayou Nezpique. A.D. McFarlain, a founding settler of Jennings, built a small canal to irrigate his farm. The idea caught on and canal companies began to organize, secure the right-of-ways, and build levees. The first canal operation in the area was Riverside Canal Company in 1895. Soon construction of the Grand Canal and the Tip Top canal were under way in the Hathaway area. By 1899, there were 25 irrigating canals in Acadia, Calcasieu, Cameron, and Vermillion; nearly 400 miles of main canals, plus as much in lateral canals. Canals were built 40-60 feet wide, 4-5 feet high. The first canals were built from the outside with plows and graders; after the turn of the 20th Century, canals were built from the inside, which prevented grass and weed growth in the canal during the off-season.

A field is flooded when rice grows to six to eight inches high. The field is flooded to three to six inches and kept there until the rice matures. Levees are used to equalize water levels. An outer levee surrounds the field with inner levees making smaller fields within the larger field. The flooding process filled the field next to the pump first, then cut the levee to have as much going to the next field as being pumped into the first filed, and so on.

Levees were built, first, with a shovel. Then farmers were using a ditcher (gang plow), then a grader, by 1915. The grader was made of two 8-foot long beams in a V-shape pulled by oxen, and later a tractor. Early planters built levees at right angles to the slope of the land. They built higher levees in low areas and vice versa. This would result in water a foot deep on the low side and a few inches on the high side. This resulted in different maturity and lower yields. In time, crooked levees were built to follow the contours of the land to hold water at an even depth over the entire field.

Land-leveling came in the late-1940’s. Before fields were leveled, farmers had to deal with low knolls that dotted Southwest Louisiana. These lumps of land were about 30 feet in diameter and as high as three feet. To flatten these knolls, farmers began by taking a tractor with a dozer blade to the lumps, then running a 60-foot land plane over the field about four times. Level-land moved farmers from 5-7 barrels per acre to 20 barrels. Leveling also made water distribution, amounts of water, and levee building much more efficient.

The first canals were powered by gravity moving water with about a half-foot per mile excavation. Main canals were built on high ridges of farms. Canals had gates that opened to lateral canals on the high side of farms. Then the steam engine came along, which was capable of raising 90,000 gallons of water per minute from the bayous. The first rigging for moving water from a bayou to the fields was done near Crowley on Plaquemine Bayou by the Father of Artificial Rice Flooding, Myron Abbott. Steam pumps fueled by wood were common until the 1920’s. These steam pumps required high maintenance and were dangerous. A vigilent attendant had to monitor the pump around the clock to insure the proper water level was maintained to prevent the engine from exploding. In the 1920’s, pumps powered by “crude oil” were installed. These engines required vigilance to keep them running, but they would not take lives if mistakes were made.



Thrashing

Faced with better planted seed producing more matured rice and the capacity to cut and shock that rice more efficiently, farmers needed more than a pestle and mortar to prepare rice for the mill. Farmers again looked to the William Deering & Son concern for a mechanical device that would remove the rice from the stalk. Mechanized thrashing, also called threshing, was not new to harvesting grain. Wheat threshers had been used by farmers in the Midwest for decades. In 1889, with a few modifications, Deering built and shipped twenty-two railcars to Lake Charles loaded with threshing machines.

Because threshing machines were expensive, individual farmers would leave the threshing to a custom operation that travelled from farm to farm. Farmers contracted with the threshing operation, usually paying with a percentage of the crop and a crew was organized. Many were free labor by men who worked in exchange for free labor when the threshing crew came to their fields. The host farmer was responsible for hospitality, and that farmer's wife usually had help from the wives of several other farmers on the crew. The first threshing machine to serve the area arrived in Lake Arthur and belonged to Mr. St. Germaine and Mr. Gauthier. In the early-1900’s, the farmers in the Hathaway area had two threshing operations, both family run, the Havenars and the Fruges. When moving from farm to farm, these crews resembled a train because of how one machine was hitched to another.

The thresher was a large contraption that separated the grain from the stalks and chaff, then bagged the rice for shipment to the mill. The machine was parked in a field and farmers from the area brought their shocked rice to the machine for separation. A driver would pull his wagon, and later his truck, up alongside the machine. From the wagon, he pitched the stalks up on top of the machine. Atop the machine was a canvass that rolled into the machine. As the stalks fell off the canvass on to an iron grate inside the machine, a drum pounded the stalks into a grate. The straw continuing off the canvass on to the grate pushed the beaten straw onto a canvass that fell into a shoot. In that same shoot was debris and bits of straw that fell through the grate with the rice. It fell past a stream of air, which blew the debris horizontally and the rice fell on through. This process served the same function as the winnowing basket. The shoot emptied the straw and debris from a spout about six feet above the machine. The air in the shoot came out with enough force to shoot the straw and debris into a haystack about 20 to 30 feet from the machine.

To be threshed, the bundles had to be dry, otherwise the machine would get clogged, which would cause the belt to come off the pulley, causing further delay. Threshing usually began mid-morning after the fog had lifted. Rain usually caused a delay of several days. If the bottom of the bundle was too soggy, then that part of the bundle was cut off before fed into the machine. Another tactic for keeping the stalks dry and the machine from getting clogged was to move the shocks to higher ground.




On the threshing machine, sacks hung on a rail at the spout where separated rice flowed. When full, the sack was unhooked and a new one placed in front of the spout; then the full sack had to be sewn quickly by a skilled sewer with a six-inch needle usually sewn and marked while the next bag filled. The mark was usually a number that was used to divide at market among the shares in the crop held by the threshing crew, the canal company, and the landlord (if the farmer rented the land). By the 1920’s, 200 to 500 sacks (ranging from 160-200 lbs) per day could be threshed. Although, rice was stored in burlap sacks, farmers measured their crop in "barrels." This standard of measure was first adopted in South Carolina rice production in 1714. Farmers still use the term today.




The entire binding and threshing operation usually required 25-30 men: (1) The binder required two men—one to drive the team or tractor and one to operate the binder; (2) Three or four men followed the machine to prepare the shock; (3) Nine to twelve wagons were used (each with a driver) to move the shock from the fields to the stationary threshing machine. The threshing machine had an engine man, a separator man, two sack draggers, one sack sewer, and an extra man or two.


Planting Innovations


With a more dependable water source and mechanized reapers and threshers, farmers could increase the acreage they planted. For this increased acreage, farmers also wanted to increase their yield per acre. To improve their yield, a more consistent rate of growth in the stand and maturity of the grain was necessary. Broadcasting seed left a lot of seed on the surface or in hoof marks, which caused variances in growth and maturity at harvest time. The need to cover more acreage and for a way to plant seeds more consistently led more farmers to use the disc drill.

The drill had been in use for centuries by Chinese farmers and made its way to Europe in the 1700's. In 1841, a practical seed drill for grain was patented. Over fifty years later, farmers planting rice in Southwestern Louisiana began using them to plant rice. But the inconsistency of stalk growth was not solved until the drill was equipped with a roller to follow the disc drill and flatten the earth over the seed.

A report on the rice planting season in the June 4, 1894 edition of the Jennings newspaper exemplifies the challenge for rice farmers of the 1890's on the prairies:



Planting will continue up to July 1, but there will not be the acreage planted now that there would have been had the spring been favorable for early planting. The rice in many fields will make a very uneven stand owing to some of the rice coming up early, while the remainder is just sprouting. The finest and most even stand of rice is seen where the fields were rolled. It came up very even, made a steady growth through the dry spell, and since the late rains is the most encouraging looking rice on the prairie.

The first drills for rice had 6 spouts arranged behind an axel that supported a trough to hold the seed. Two horses pulled the drill implement. For each drill, two discs were set in a V-shape to a desired depth with a spout laid between the discs to drop the seed into the crease cut by the discs. Later models had rollers that followed the drill to cover the seed after it was planted. By World War I, 12 spouts were common, and some drills had as many as 16 spouts.

To Market

When night fell, a farmer came in, put on a clean shirt and drove the team and a string of wagons to sit in long lines at the warehouse. Here the bags of rice were unloaded by a crew and stacked in a slot rented to the farmer away from the chances of rain waiting to be milled. In the 1920’s, when trucks became common place, Model-T flat bed trucks could carry 18-20 sacks of rice. Then the Model-A trucks arrived, which could carry 40 sacks, depending on the condition of the ground.

In the 1860’s, several rice mills were built in New Orleans to accommodate the harvest coming in from the southeastern Louisiana coastal parishes. With the opening of the railroad in 1880 across the southern prairies of Louisiana and the ensuing surge in rice production, many rice mills were built to accommodate the incoming rice. By 1888, thirteen new rice mills had been built in New Orleans, and near the same number had been built across southern Louisiana on rivers with access to the Gulf, including a mill in Lake Charles on the Calcasieu River.

At the mill, rice was fed onto a rotating canvass that was gritty enough to rub the soft covering of the kernel into a fine dust, thus giving the rice a polished finish. Rice mills were built. The first mills were built in Lake Charles. Crowley also had a mill. In 1899, the first and only mill was built in Jennings by George Hathaway & Associates, which was almost immediately sold to the Louisiana State Rice Milling Company. This mill was called “The Northern Mill” by the owners and the public, alike.

Some of the larger farming operations built a home mill. Others who had held back a few bags of rice used a miller who set up shop to mill a few bags of rice at a time in exchange for a portion of the rice, which then became merchandise sold to the general public. People did not pick up their rice at a store in a plastic bag. Instead they stopped by the mill shop.

As with most industry, buyers and sellers began jockeying for the best price. Rice millers were the buyers and they soon joined forces to dictate the price paid for a crop of rice. Farmers were the sellers and they would counter the millers’ squeeze by holding their crops in the warehouses until the price was acceptable. The same types of battles continue today. Some years, the price had nothing to do the miller's trust. The season was a major determinant as well.

In the October 10, 1895 issue of the Jennings newspaper, and article entitled "The Crop Will Be Short," ran advising farmers on their best strategy:

The rice crop of Southwest Louisiana will be quite large, but it will not exceed, and we doubt if it approximates that of the 1892, which is from a quarter to a half million bags short of what it has been estimated at during the season. In view of these facts it will be well for the farmers to guard against rushing their crops to New Orleans and over-crowding that market. The domestic crop will fall far short of the amount required for domestic consumption and there is no reason why the planters should not realize the price equal to the cost of importing the foreign article. Past experience teaches that planters will never realize this much in New Orleans or any other market if shipments are such as to glut that market. If you ship to the city and your rice goes in store there are heavy expenses for sotrange insurance, etc., that must be met. You not only save this by keeping your rice at home but you are in a position to take advantage of the other markets that are reaching out in this direction for trade. Let our shipment be gradual. Don't glut the market; it don't pay.


Irrigation—Deep & Grand

Once a few canals were up and pumping, it became apparent that there was much more farm land than could be reached by canal. Many acres of farmland had to be supplied by another source. Irrigation wells were common in the Midwest to water crops, but those crops did not require the volume needed to flood rice. The Chicot aquifer was discovered about 125 to 200 feet below the surface and, in 1898, Jean Castex, Dr. Remage, S.L. Cary, and Maurice Bryan were among the first in the Jennings area to dig deep wells. In only five years time, thousands of acres that would have remained grazing land outside the reach of canals became cultivated land because of the deep well. Early wells sank 150-175 feet with four clustered four-inch pipe wells that united at the top and pumped to flood 500 acre fields. Deep wells were still not altogether reliable.

The first canal company in Hathaway was the Grand Marais Canal Company. It was later bought by the Jennings Irrigation Company, which later changed it’s name to the Grand Canal Company, which then became Louisiana Irrigation and Canal Company. When the canal was being built, the engineer and laborers made their headquarters at the location of Relift Sixteen, which is less than a mile north of Hathaway. The abandoned remnants of the pumping station still stand today along Highway 26. Here the company operated a rooming house for its workers and other help and a barn for the horses and mules that helped pull the graders that lifted the levees into place. There was also a general store and a saloon here too. The Grand Canal was built from Bayou Nezpique, beginning with a huge inlet that met a huge dual-pump station that pushed water into the canal onto the prairie westward for about two miles, then curved in a north-northwest direction for about a mile, bending westward again toward Relift Sixteen. At the relift, the canal made a ninety-degree turn that headed in a south-southwest direction for another mile, then bending straight south. In 1927, a westward extension from Relift #16 was built.

By 1901, over 500 wells had been drilled, and the next year wells were then being drilled to depths of 230-260 feet with a single, 10-12 inch pipe to irrigate 250-450 acres. Deep wells were not without problems. Sand clogged pipes and caused long delays. Different configurations were tried to keep the pipes from clogging, but after a year or two, those wells were stopped-up with sand. Then came the Getty screen and sand was no longer an issue. Fred I. Getty’s invention made deep wells successful. He was a pipe outfitter and driller who expanded his oil field drilling operation into a first-rate water drilling operation.

Deep wells had a substantial up-front cost and pump maintenance was ongoing, but the deep well proved well worth the investment in the long run. The process of pumping water and delivering enough water to flood hundreds of acres was a costly venture, and the companies that brought the water to the fields had to turn a profit. Until 1906, all profits from canals went into expanding the canal system. But, for more than 10 years, investors were not seeing a return on their investment. Much of the business was conducted by handshake agreements, but too many people were defaulting on their agreed shares for the canal companies. In 1906, those canals companies gave notice that written contracts would be required for delivery of water. The terms of the contract required a flat-rate from the farmer to turn over two bags of rough rice per-acre-watered. Even though the farmers were getting the same water, the price of that water did not hit the farmers equally. For example, a farmer with a bumper crop paid less than a farmer with a low yield per acre. In 1910, canal companies then moved to the 1/5 share of the total crop.

Canals had their risks as well. In 1902, 1904, 1931, and 1951, canals also had several instances of salt water inundation from the Gulf that reached as high as the Grand Canal. Many crops were ruined. Finally, in 1951, the locks were built to make the marshland fresh water and the salt water problem was solved. Rice farming enjoyed a great balance between water supplied by canal or by well: But many farmers would soon realize that in the long run, the expense of digging a deep well was the smarter business decision. For Southwest Louisiana in 1902, 48,600 acres were supplied by well, 323,000 by streams, and 16,000 by both. But by 1946, there were 250,000 acres supplied by well, 245,000 by stream, and 30,000 by both. More and more farmers began to break from the canal company and drilled their own deep wells. By the early-1960’s, the pump at Grand Canal was shut down and Relift #16 was abandoned.


Tractor Pull

In 1916 came the first fuel (kerosene) tractor. It was the Moline-Universal one-man tractor to be used for plowing, harrowing, planting, cultivation, and harvesting. A binder pulled by a tractor could harvest 20 to 30 acres a day. Soon the Fordson and the Waterloo Boy arrived. These tractors cost $885 in 1917 and could plow over 400 acres, averaging 8 acres-a-day, pulling a 3-bottom, 26” disc plow. Tractors were rated by horsepower at the drawbar and at the belt. In 1918, a tractor could run 12 horsepower at the drawbar and 25 at the belt. The tractor engine could run the belt in a stationary position, which could power equipment like a threshing machine. By this time, tractors were common-place in Southwestern Louisiana. From that point, harrow and plow design improved exponentially to meet the capabilities of the horsepower pulling them. In 1927, an extension shaft was added to the tractor to retire the small engine that powered the sickle in the binder.


In the 1930’s, tractors and plows improved to make twenty to thirty acres-a-day possible. The peg-tooth harrow, and four to six foot disc plows were the norm. All implements had iron wheels and rims. The back wheels were larger than the front wheels like the tractors today, but instead of rubber tires, the wheels had different-shaped lugs attached to them for traction in the mud. These tractors were tearing up the newly paved roads. Rubber tires did not come until 1945, after the war. Goodyear made a rubber tractor tire suitable for the muddy rice field, and although the transition was gradual, the asphalt roads were soon saved.



Modern Rice Farming Begins

In 1945, scarce labor and steepening wages created new opportunities for innovation. Interestingly, part of the farm labor shortage during World War II was supplemented by German prisoners of war in 1943 and 1944. Camps set up throughout Southwest Louisiana parishes, including Jeff Davis Parish. Camps varied in size from 150 to 500 prisoners. Work was voluntary. 15-20 worked for small wages under military guard. The soldiers worked surprisingly better and faster than normal labor. Most of the German soldiers in Jeff Davis Parish were from General Erwin Rommel’s Afrika Korps (Jeff Davis News, Oct. 12, 1943).

The major innovations that helped farmers find help in the fields were the combine to cut rice and the airplane to plant seeds. Using combines to harvest rice was more efficient than the binder and it removed the need for a thresher. Planting by air only required four people—the pilot, the seed loader, and two flag men at each end of the field.

Combines had been in use in California since the mid-1930’s. The first combine in Southwestern Louisiana was purchased by Joe Pettijean in 1939. The detractors of the combine did not like that the machine left no haystack for shelter and forage for cattle. But the lift of rationing on manufacturing materials lifted after World War II and the high demand for labor, the combine made some headway. In August 1943, 8 combines were sold in Jeff Davis Parish for one thousand dollars.

The first combines were tractor drawn with a 6-foot blade. They required a loop around the field be cut to start. By 1945, combines were now self-propelled, costing about four thousand dollars with a 12-foot blade. By 1947, 60 % of the harvest was done by combine in Jeff Davis Parish. By 1950, the entire industry was converted. Design improved to prevent bogging and for the maneuvering of levees.




Combines harvested rice “green” with no need to shock the rice. Instead, rice driers were built. When binders cut rice, the moisture level of rice was 20-30% and shocked dried the rest in two weeks. Combines allowed no curing period. Cut rice at 20% moisture. Rice was prone to spoilage with so much moisture. The rice had to be dried down to 12%. Rice driers on large scale and individually owned driers dot the area. Bins are common for storage to wait out the best price for rice. Warehouses were replaced by wooden, then concrete, then steel bins. 1948 was the peak-year for conversion. At the drier, rice sifted through screens to remove chaff, then moved to an elevator by a turn table and fell into small bins that were rotated in intervals over air to not burn or check grain. Then rice was moved back to the bin, aerated, cooled, sampled, and sold.

Horse teams and rail were the old way. Now trucks do it all. When combines and rice carts began harvesting rice, beds of trucks were walled up with a 6-inch trap door at the back for unloading at the drier. A hoist attached to the front end of the truck lifted the truck to unload the truck bed. By the 1960’s, trucks had hydraulic lifts and could hold 100 barrels. About 1945, the rice cart, which was pulled by tractor, joined the combine. Early on, a 32-barrel cart with a 9-inch conveyor emptied in two minutes. By 1969, carts held 45-65 barrels, had adjustable augers, a clutch, reversible treat tires, and heavy drive shafts.

In 1945, the age of planting seed by airplane was born. The practice was not widespread, but it had begun. By 1950, 5% of farms were seeded by air; by the 1960’s, only 5% of farmers did not. Planes flew down to 15 to 20 feet above the ground at about 80 miles per hour and dropped seed in 60-feet strips in one pass. The plane could plant 20-40 acres of seed in an hour. The seeds were dropped into a prepared bed. By the time seeding was done by the air, seed had begun getting chemical treatment and Honduras and Japanese seed had been retired. By 1950, growers began to specialize in growing certified seed rice, which took special care at all phases and examined by a state seed analyst. Seed development became a part of the industry looking to increase its yield. Seeds were dropped on dry and wet fields, trying to develop the best methods. Now, planes drop sprouting seeds on wet fields.

While rice has been the staple crop for farmers in Jeff Davis Parish for a long time, other crops have been grown for profit too. Other crops include hay, sugar cane, cotton, Irish potatoes and sweet potatoes, oats, corn, and soybeans.

Profile of a Farmer: Orville Phenice


Based on the writings of
My Second Grade Teacher
Marilyn Phenice Thurmon Strickland


Bernard Orville Phenice always thought he could do just about anything, and he proved he often could. Orville was born on August 26, 1911, and not long after, he decided he wanted to be a farmer when he grew up. He went to school and was within a year of graduating, but ran into complications with school credits so he left for the school of life.

Looking back at his life, there is little doubt he was a self-taught master of many disciplines. The details of his story below certainly back the claim of the many that knew him and remembered him as “a man before his time.”

Becoming a Farmer, Husband, and Father

His dream of becoming a farmer was realized when, in the early 1930’s, he was fortunate to partner with his brothers, Henry and Warren, to purchase an 840-acre farm in Pine Island. Not long after, they added a tenant farm in Hathaway near their parents, Harry and Daisy Phenice, who had married in Lake Charles in 1900. His father, born in 1874, came from Pennsylvania via Kansas. His mother, born in 1876, came from England at age 10 via Pennsylvania.

In January 1934, Orville married Mary Elta Whitman, who had moved with her family from Missouri to Hathaway as a young girl. When asked in her later years about her greatest pleasure in life, Elta answered “my family.” Being a farmer’s wife and mother of five, she kept busy with the usual household duties of the day. Certain times during the year her days were often filled with canning fruits and vegetables, or cooking meals for threshing crews of 20 or 30 men at harvest time. She would also run errands for her husband from time-to-time, like when he needed replacement parts from Jennings. Out in the yard, she would pick eggs, but she would not milk a cow. She would pick and clean a chicken but she would not wring its neck. In the community, she was active in church and school activities. She was also an excellent seamstress. About the only housework she did not do was the ironing. Instead she had contraptions she used to help pants dry with a crease or to help linens dry smoothly. Or she hired her girls to do the ironing for a penny a garment.

For newlyweds in the middle of the Great Depression, they did pretty good. They lived in a small farmhouse at the center of the farm. When they moved in, they bought furniture from a second-hand furniture store in Lake Charles. Orville made the dining room table. His brother, Sylvan, gave them a bathtub he made himself. Of course, there was no running water in the house, so the hot water had to be heated and poured in the tub. Water was brought in from the hand pump outside and heated on the stove. The wood stove did have a water reservoir but it was not used to supply the tub with hot water. There were built-in cabinets in the kitchen. They had an ice box on the front porch. In those days, there was home delivery of ice blocks from Jennings every other day. Electricity wires made it to their farmhouse about 1938. In no time Elta had the modern conveniences of an electric stove, lights, and a refrigerator.

Success Was In Him

Orville had all the qualities for success. He had great instinct, he was innovative, he was a problem-solver, and he was driven to improve himself, his operation, and anything or anyone that he encountered.

He worked hard during the first years of his marriage. From early morning to dusk, he was working, working, working. After the sun went down, he plowed fields, worked around the house, or he spent his night with the relift pump to keep it running. But there was no work on Saturday nights. That was time for farmers and their wives to have a night out in Welsh. They met at the farm equipment store, went grocery shopping, and then they went to the movies. On Sundays, Orville and his family, sometimes with his brothers' and sisters' families, would gather at his parents’ home. The kids played and ate ice cream or water melon, the men played cards or dominoes and, the women sat and visited.

Orville’s innovative spirit was a great asset in the fields. There he and his brothers learned the bounty of the area’s first “second crop.” After they cut the rice, leaving only stubble, they flooded their field again. It was duck season and they wanted to make sure water fowl flying overhead knew they were welcome to stop on their farm. Who knows how many ducks they bagged, but they did discover that the water was causing a remarkable growth in the rice stalks. So they fertilized the field and harvested another crop in the same season. The second crop has now become common practice among farmers in the area, and it all started with some duck hunting.

Orville’s problem-solving abilities helped him in the fields. When a rice field is flooded, farmers use cuts in the levees to regulate flooding. When Orville was farming, the common practice was to walk the levees with a shovel and repair any washouts. (Interestingly, it was on these walks as a young man that he stopped to visit with a young woman who lived next to the Hathaway farm. He eventually made her his wife.) Always seeking to improve current methods, Orville thought preventing washouts was the better solution. He realized that the cuts in the levee needed reinforcements. He began wrapping old trousers on the end of the cuts in the levee to reinforce the cut. His idea worked. Today, instead of trousers, farmers use plastic to reinforce the cuts in their levees. He may or may not have been the first to do this, but his idea was original to him.

Orville was bold in his farming techniques. Other farmers were impressed that he could get his planting done in one pass by lining up a thirty foot string of implements, including a pulling disc, springtooth harrow, planter, and a cultipacker behind the planter. It is not surprising then that after a presentation at a local farmer's meeting, where the International Harvester representative was explaining a new, but clearly impractical, feature on a combine, Orville spoke up and said “Now I know where all the engineering school drop-outs are, International Harvester hired them.”

A Farm of His Own

After several years of working the farm in Pine Island, Orville decided it was time to go on his own. He made an arrangement with his brothers to give them control of the Pine Island farm, and he would work the land in Hathaway. That farm was a 320-acre tract rented from Ms. Katie Cronchite, who lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma. In the wake of the Evangeline and Jennings oil boom of the early-1900’s, she had purchased the land to prospect for oil and would not sell the land. But Orville kept a standing offer if she ever changed her mind.

Thinking ahead, Orville made an arrangement with Ms. Cronchite to dig a deep well on the land, which would save him from paying a fifth-share of his crop to a canal company. The well soon paid for itself many times over, and with his savings he would soon make the jump to a farm of his own, while continuing to plant the tenant farm.

About 1940, Orville purchased 23 acres in Raymond. Having benefitted greatly from pumping his own water for his tenant farm, his first order of business on his new farm was to dig a deep well. To pump the water from the ground, he bought a windmill in Jennings, and reassembled it after it was hauled in pieces to Raymond.

Next, his new spread needed a home for his growing family. But a thinking man did not pay for lumber from a lumber yard; not when there was lumber available in bulk at auction. (If he had been looking for lumber two years later, rationing during WWII would have made the auction his only option). It just so happened that the Jeff Davis Parish School Board was auctioning the school houses that were replaced by a brick and steel structure at Hathaway. But Orville’s work on the farm did not allow him to attend the auction, so he asked his wife to attend. He instructed her not to bid in rounded-off amounts like $200, but instead to make distinct bids like $202.46. She won bids on two buildings, and Orville now had the lumber to build a home for his family.

The first structure he built on the farm was what would become a two-car garage once the house was completed. He was able to raise the garage pretty quickly for his wife and two young girls to have a temporary home. And with a place for his family and fields that needed attending, he worked on the house when he could … for two years. Living in the garage was a sacrifice he and his family had to make for an independant operation. And sacrifice they did, as they continued to have no running water or plumbing until the house was livable. By the time Orville had progressed enough to make the house livable, they were expecting their third girl. The upstairs was completed shortly after her birth. Two years later, they had their only boy, and nearly six years after that, their fourth girl was born.

Shortly after World War II had ended and machinery for consumers was, again, making its way out of factories, Orville, his brother, and a friend, each bought a combine. They were among the few who had them. In addition to cutting their own farms, they hired out their machines, and so it was, threshing crews were soon replaced by a fleet of combines.

For several years, he planted the school board’s Section 16 land in Pine Island. Even though he was not going to farm there in the long run, he invested his time to improve the land using a 60-foot land-leveling device he built for himself. Someone asked him why he would spend so much time and money on the land when he did not know how long he would be farming it. Orville answered “Well, as long as I am farming it, I will get the good from it and after I leave, the next fellow can benefit from it.”

Orville always had his eye on expansion. When his neighbors, Arthur Lang, Aurelian Clement, and others, sold their property, he was there to make a deal. And eventually, he made a deal for Ms. Cronchite’s land when she was ready to sell. By the time he retired, he had amassed 600 acres and had added many improvements to the land.

His Greatest Strengths

Orville was a strong man of solid build. He stood 5 feet 10 inches and weighed 210 pounds. He was fair skinned with dark hair, blue eyes and a dimple in his cheek. He was a tough man. This toughness was with him from childhood. He had the scars to prove it. As a boy, he suffered a horrible trauma that left him scarred on his shoulder and upper back, for life. He had been fooling around under the wash pot, which hung over an open fire. The apron he was wearing dipped into the flames and ignited. Before he could react, the fire had climbed the apron and by the time the fire was put out, it had consumed his shirt. Later in life, when he would explain the scars, he would always say “that just showed I should not have been wearing an apron.” Joking aside though, he was always vigilant when young people were around a fire and routinely warned of the dangers of carelessness around fire.

Needless to say, after suffering as he must have, his threshold for pain was pretty high. One afternoon he was repairing a machine and accidentally put his hand in the fan blade. When he jerked it out, he looked at the bloody mess, and wrapped the wound with a handkerchief. When asked if it hurt, he replied “You’re darned right it hurts!” and went right on working.

Orville proved time and again that he had the strength of two men. One afternoon, Orville’s son-in-law and a friend were struggling to move an anvil out of the trunk of the car because it "must weigh six hundred pounds, at least," they said as they came into the house complaining. They could not lift it out of the trunk. Orville doubted the anvil weighed 600 pounds and went out to the car to take a look. He reached down, put his arms under the anvil, and lifted it. With a grasping bear hug, he raised and lowered it a few times, testing the weight then put it back in the trunk. He then walked away, saying “No, it can’t weigh more than three hundred pounds” and went back inside and sat down. Another afternoon, he sent two hired men to Pine Island to pick up a levee plow in his pickup. They came back without it because it was too heavy to load in the truck. Orville gave them something else to do, drove to Pine Island, loaded the plow into the truck and brought it back, by himself.

Not only was he strong physically, but he was always steady and there when needed. He did not advertise his availability, but everyone who knew him knew they could depend on him when the need arose. One afternoon, Orville’s son-in-law was helping load rice into a cart. He lost his footing and fell into the cart. His leg became caught in the auger. It soon became apparent that there was no way to pull him out and save his leg.

Orville was a self-taught welder and had the right tool for the job. He had to cut a hole in the cart with a torch to get his son-in-law out. When the ambulance left to take him to the hospital in Lake Charles, Orville rode along. On the way, they stopped at a small hospital in Welsh for pain medication. During the stop, a young attendant hopped into the back of the ambulance and reached out to lift the pants leg to see the wound. Orville very sternly told him “Don’t touch him!” There was no blood coming from the wound and Orville did not want to chance moving him and start the leg bleeding. Although Orville had done all he could, doctors in Lake Charles had to amputate the leg above the knee.

Orville did not attend church regularly; however, he encouraged his family to attend, supported the church, attended its social functions, and was a key player in constructing the new church building for Raymond Methodist Church. And although he did not make it on Sundays, Orville was a man of deep abiding faith. The most telling evidence of this faith was his ability to sleep easy when an approaching storm threatened his crop. He knew it was out of his hands.

Consistent with his toughness and control, Orville was not emotionally demonstrative; he showed his love in actions rather than in words or displays of affection. For example, out of respect for his wife, he kept his beer in the outside refrigerator because she wouldn’t appreciate having it in the house. He rarely attended church, but would go when family was in town. He was not putting up a front; he was honoring his family. For those who loved him, the words were not necessary because he left no doubt he loved, respected, and approved of them.

On occasion, he did offer heartfelt advice. His granddaughter recalled one of the few times she remembered him expressing a caring remark. She and her grandmother were in the kitchen cooking and having conversation about dating and boyfriends. Orville caught a piece of the conversation when he came into the room. He interjected his advice, saying “Just remember when you choose a husband you are also choosing a father for your children.” This really struck her because this was not characteristic of her grandfather. Another granddaughter recalled a night right before a pageant for parish fair queen, Orville pulled her aside and reminded her that whether she won or not, she would still look the same. His message was simple and prophetic: If you win, stay humble; if you do not, keep your chin up.

Orville was not one for small talk or banter. He was quite most of the time, unless there was a debate to be had or he felt the need to share his opinion on the subject. Debate was like a sport for him, especially when his brother Warren came for a visit, or when he was visiting his friend, John Compton. When Orville would stop by John’s shop, they would get to talking on a particular subject. John would have to think about whether he was “pro” or “con” on that subject before he spoke up. He knew that whatever side he chose, Orville would come back with something like “Oh, I don’t know about that…,” which would begin his take on the subject, which would certainly be the opposing viewpoint.

Orville had a keen wit. Once, he was helping a poor speller fill out a job application and he was asked how to spell “Calcasieu.” He obliged. Then he was asked how to spell “National,” where upon Orville supplied the correct spelling. Then, without prompting, Orville spelled “Bank” for him. Another time at a family Christmas, everyone was visiting in the den and a conversation on funerals began. Orville said he did not want any money spent on a fancy casket. He wanted to be buried in a simple pine box. His wife heard this and pursed her lips and said she did not want a pine box because people would think her family was too cheap to give her a nice funeral. Orville replied “Well, if that’s what you want, we’ll get a pine box and just put money in it with you.” His wife said “That seems kind of silly to fill it with money.” Orville replied “Okay, we’ll write a check!” Even his wife had to laugh.

He was at his best when he combined his need to share an opinion with his keen wit. On occasion he would call a manufacturer if something just wasn’t right. Like the time he called the corporate offices for Charmin toilet paper. They had changed the scent of their rolls and he could not stand the smell. He called and told them he thought "toilet paper should smell better before you use it than after!” Or the time he called the corporate office for Parker pens. He had bought his wife a nice pen with a lifetime guarantee. When the pen ran out of ink and was told that they no longer make the pen, he told them “This pen has a lifetime guarantee and I ain’t dead yet.” They sent him a new pen.

An Innovative Spirit

One of Orville’s favorite colloquialisms was “Seems like a fellow could…,” which meant he was thinking through how to do something, which meant he was coming up with a better way to do something. He was certainly a master at creative engineering and could “make do” with whatever was on hand. Like the time he stacked two bookshelves on top of each other. He apparently did not have any dowel pins, so he made his own, using cuts of pencils. Years later when the bookshelves were disassembled his “Orvillized” fix was discovered.

Many times, the process of fixing something is trial and error. Orville was not afraid to fail. He knew it was part of learning. When he came upon an error, he’d say “That vexes me.” Like the time he carpeted the living room and had to trim the doors so they would not drag on the carpet. After trimming a door and rehanging it, the door still drug on the carpet. This vexed him, no doubt, until he discovered he’d trimmed the top of the door!

For many of his fixes, the finished product might not be the most beautiful, but it was always functional. Functionality, it seems, was top priority. For example, he converted an old blue-and-white Chevrolet pick-up truck into a dump truck. It worked, but it was really weird-looking. Another example of a functional fix was when he would buy a new pair of work boots. The first thing he would do was cut a slit along the back to give his ankle more room. His wife would question why he always ruined good boots. He would reply that they were not any good if they hurt his feet.

One of Orville’s qualities that fit his innovative spirit perfectly was that he liked new things. He was on the cutting-edge, whether it was cars, farming equipment, household devices, etc. He was not afraid to spend the money he earned. When his wife questioned a purchase, he often responded “Money ain’t worth anything unless you spend it.” One of his favorite new things were new cars. The first family car was a Hudson Terraplane. Over the years he would buy a new Pontiac coupe, a DeSoto (with Fluid Drive), then a ‘49, ‘52, ‘55, and ‘57 Pontiac, a ‘59 and ‘61 Ninety-Eight Oldsmobile, a Chrysler, a Cadillac, and a Toyota Cressna.

Orville and his family saw television for the first time on a trip to visit his in-laws for Thanksgiving in Kansas City in 1951. They were walking down a sidewalk on a cold November day when they passed a hardware store with several TV’s airing in the storefront window. The family stopped and was mesmerized. Could it have been a new show called I Love Lucy that got their attention? Maybe it was George Burns and Gracie Allen dancing across the screen? Or maybe it was Bozo the Clown? Whatever the show that had their attention, it was enough that Orville immediately bought a television set and antenna when they were back home. It did not matter that the closest stations broadcasting television signals were in New Orleans and Houston. Back then there were no FCC regulations on broadcast power so these airwaves were definitely within reach … on a good day. Orville put his antenna atop the 60-foot windmill tower, and was able to get, at best, a poor signal. This type of thing is of little concern to an early-adopter. Orville was certainly that. He was the first in the community to have a set. But he did not have to wait forever for a better signal. A UHF signal was broadcast out of Lake Charles in 1952 and KPLC in Lake Charles began broadcasting in the summer of 1954.

He was also not afraid to put his time and effort into experimental farming processes. In 1957, the LSU Agricultural Service needed to test an experimental cover crop of clover. Cover crops are planted to prevent soil erosion, help with weed and insect problems, and to replenish the nitrogen in the soil. Clover, as a legume, is well-suited as a cover crop. Orville planted the experimental clover and harvested the clover for its seeds on the tenant farm owned by Ms. Cronchite. He used his combine to harvest the clover but had to reconfigure the cutter bar to get it low enough to cut the clover and rig the hopper to contain the seeds. His creative engineering worked and clover became one of his most lucrative ventures.

To successfully harvest clover seeds, honeybees were necessary to pollinate the clover. And honeybees, naturally, produced a lot of honey. He bought a machine that removed the honey from the combs and he stored the honey in jars. Some jars were sold, but most were for personal use or given away to family and friends.

He reinvested some of the clover money in an Angus bull. The only problem was that the bull was in Tennessee and he did not have a trailer. So he and his brother, Henry, rented a U-Haul (without disclosing their purpose), lined it with hay, and came back with the bull. He only had a herd for a few years but the freezer was always full and the steaks too large to fit on the plate. He liked his steaks rare. If anyone ever complained about the meat being too tough, he would say “It’s tougher when there ain’t none.” He liked to eat his steak with a side of iceberg lettuce. He cut the head of lettuce into chunks, pour milk gravy or Thousand Island dressing on the chunk of lettuce, and eat it like a piece of pie.

The Camp at Toledo Bend

When he was sixty-two years old, Orville built a lake house on waterfront property he had purchased on Toledo Bend. He built the house by himself with the help come along winches, except for when a go-fer or a board-holder helped. The house was built using lumber from an old dairy barn on his farm from an earlier venture with his son-in-law. One of the feats that amazed his family was raising the rafters with nothing but winches. Other feats of strenghth included getting concrete to a sidewalk along the house. He could not get the cement mixer up close enough to the house, so he had to haul the concrete a good distance from the mixer to the sidewalk in a pair of five-gallon buckets (each weighing about 80 pounds). When he built a deck, he had to dig post holes for support. Orville dug the first eight as his grandson observed. He did them in rapid succession. While watching his grandfather, he thought the ground was mostly sand. But, when it was his turn to help out on the last two, he found out the ground was as hard as concrete.

Orville’s other project at the camp was his boathouse and the boat launch. In typical-Orville fashion, he thought lauching his boat from the marina's launch was unnecessary, when he could lanch right from the shore at the cabin. When he built the boat house, he had to think about how to get the boat trailer in the boat house and still have it available to take the boat to the marina to launch it if he needed too. He decided to launch the boat on the trailer. He arranged tracks into the water and rigged two rims to line the trailer wheels on and keep them steady on the track. When he backed the boat into the water, he left the boat bound to the trailer. Once the boat was floating, he released the boat and pulled trailer out of the water, parking it in the boathouse. Many have marveled at his launch as a work of superior engineering. The boat on the trailer launched smoothly every time. His way of perfectly aligning the tracks from the boat house to the water was pure genius. The wheels never started to bind down the track or ever came off the track, ever. Another feature that was mind-boggling was the boat hoist (that surely was not) but certainly appeared to have been welded under water. His inventiveness did not stop there. He needed a light that would stay-put, but still could be moved in a pinch. His solution was to fill a bucket with cement and anchor the lamp in the bucket. Always inventive.

Profile of a Past Family: Crochet

Family of Augustin Crochet

The Augustin Crochet family was a French-speaking family that owned a farm in Panchoville at the turn of the Twentieth Century. Augustin was born in Januray of 1867 in Louisiana. He married his wife, Marguerite Lopez, about 1890. He was 23. She was 15. They would have nine children.

1. Daughter, Oliva, was born Saturday, November 7, 1891. The record of her baptism indicates she was baptized in Jennings at Our Lady Help Christians Catholic Church on January 31, 1892. She would later marry Adras LeJuene, seven years her junior. Their first child, Augustin and Marguerite's second grandchild, was born in September 1918 and named Henry. In 1920, the Census recorded Oliva, Adras, and Henry living in her parents house. In the 1920 Census, Mr. LeJuene was recorded a canal laborer.

2. Daughter, Artemise, was born January 1894.

3. Daughter, Eulia Marie, was born Wednesday, September 30, 1896. The record of her baptism indicates she was baptized in Nez Pique Bayou on Friday, October 23, 1896.

4. Son, Luce (Lewis/Louis in later Census data), was born February 1898. When he was 18, he married Celina, who was 19. In 1917, he had a son named Andrew. This was Augustin and Marguerite's first grandchild. In the 1920 Census, he was recorded as doing mill work.

5. Daughter, Adeluce, was born September 1899.

6. Son, Leo, was born May 25, 1906. He was attending Crochet school in 1920.

7. Son, Joseph Reol, was born July 22, 1909.

8. Daughter, Maria, was born in 1910.

9. Daughter, Evela (Avala in later Census data) was born in 1914.

In the 1930 Census, it appears that Augustin was ill (presumably). His wife, Margaurite, is listed as the "Head" of the household, but she is not listed as a Widow. Further detail coming soon. Also, by the 1930's all those in the family were listed as bilingual.

Early Schooling to Consolidation

In the late 19th Century, four settlements in Ward 10 of Imperial Calcasieu organized schools in what is now the Hathaway community: Grand Marais, Glen Roy, Nubbin Ridge and Raymond.

Schools of this period usually evolved from a private tutor hired by a family to a "master" or "governor" hired by several families that joined with other area families who then invited other children from surrounding homesteads. Then those same families petitioned the parish school board to sanction a school district.

The first area to organize a school was the Grand Marais settlement, about four miles north of Jennings on the Grand Marais. Other settlements in Hathaway were Glen Roy, about three miles east, northeast of the Grand Marais school. Six miles to the north, northwest of Glen Roy was Nubbin Ridge. And finally, about four miles to the west, southwest of Nubbin Ridge was Raymond. Each of these settlements built a school. School board policy was generally to try to consolidate school districts because maintaining many separate school houses was costly. Consolidation was disfavored by residents because consolidation meant longer travel for school children to and from school. In the early-20th Century, improved roads and automotive busing were still developing. This made the idea of consolidation unpopular, as indicated in a 1907 report by the Superintendent, John McNeese:

Concerning consolidation, have little definite
results to report, owing to the scattered
settlements, bad roads and a general prejudice
against giving up the local schools. Have
established transfer routes to two center
ward schools for which three wagonettes will
be used. Have arranged for its establishment
in their other districts, but shall not get them
to work before next year, 1907. In connection
with this shall say as our country is not old in
sense that it has been settled a long time, public
highways are very poor and little attention has
been given them, so to bring about consolidation
we have to start with the road first and work
back to our main purpose. The members of the
Police Jury, seeing the relation between road
building and school building have appropriated
45,000.00 to be spent on the road and
schoolhouses of the parish. In the wards where
there is already a road tax, this will materially
assist in repairing and refurnishing schoolhouses.
It will be our work to have the road leading to the
school houses repaired first.
A special tax of 3 mill was first charged in 1911 by the Police Jury of Imperial Calcasieu in Ward 10, which was where those who lived in what would become the Hathaway area was located. After the Louisiana General Assembly voted unanimously on Act No.7 in 1912, Imperial Calcasieu parish was divided into four, and Jefferson Davis Parish was created. The rural schools of Imperial Calcasieu's Ward 10 then became a part of Ward 3 in Jefferson Davis Parish.

The first school on the present site of Hathaway High School was a one-room school house built in 1914 for junior high-aged children. The Jefferson Davis Parish School Board originally planned to consolidate the area schools at this central location. However, efforts to keep younger children closer to home were successful and children in the 5th Grade or below attended the area one-room school houses. The first school on what is now the campus of Hathaway High School closed because of poor attendance and lack of funding. Children above the 5th Grade, then had find transportation to or board in Jennings to go to school at Central. While it was in operation, Mrs. Effie Compton Talley, who also attended that school around 1923, recalls the school suited a girl’s basketball team that wore black skirts below the knee and black socks with gold stripes (below--guessing Ms. Talley is second from left in front). In those days it was considered impolite for girls to show their legs. They played on a dirt court behind the school and if it rained on game day and the other team showed, they used burlap sacks to sop up the rain and played anyway. The school also boasted a “domestic sciences” course.



In 1928, Huey P. Long was elected Governor of Louisiana. His campaign promises included free textbooks and busing for all school children, improved roads, and a school for every community. Before Long, parents were responsible for buying their child's textbooks. Often, children without textbooks were sent home. The education initiatives of Huey Long ensured all children could attend school without financial obstacle.



With the advent of Henry Ford's assembly line in 1913, automobiles lost their luxury status and were more commonplace. By the end of the 1920's the automobile had replaced horses as the major mode of transportation. However, much of rural Louisiana could not accommodate efficient travel by automobile. The roads through Hathaway were no exception. The following is a quote from http://www.hueylong.com/ that explains the condition of Louisiana's road system in the late-1920's and early-1930's:



In 1928, Louisiana had roughly 300 miles of paved roads, only 60 miles of which were maintained by the state. Most ‘highways’ linking major towns were rutted, winding dirt roads that turned to thick mud in the state’s frequent rains. Farmers struggled to get their crops to market, and it was common to wait days to travel until the roads dried out. Cars often became stuck in the mud, and it was common practice for travelers to prevail upon local farmers to pull their cars out with a team of horses or oxen.

The Long administration implemented an ambitious road-building program that employed 10 percent of the nation’s highway workers. By 1932, the state had 5,000 miles of new paved and gravel roads. Four years later, there were 9,700 miles of new roads and 111 bridges, doubling the size of the state's highway system.

Huey Long's roadsurfacing plan (circa 1934) included a highway that would connect U.S. Highway 90 (through Jennings) and U.S. Highway 190 (through Elton). That road would come closer to reality on May 4, 1936 when the Jeff Davis Parish School board sold the Louisiana Highway Commission a right-of-way for the "Jennings-North" highway, which was then designated as Highway 25. The road previously connecting Jennings with Elton ran through Raymond.



The Official Road Map of Louisiana showed Highway 25 still yet to be improved by the state. It did show that the parish had improved several roads in the area though. Those highways originated in Raymond. One ran west from Raymond to Pine Island. Another ran north from Raymond to Elton. The other ran from Pine Island Road to Roanoke. These improved roads were not the only roads in the Hathaway area, but after a rain storm, they were probably the only passable by car in 1939.

In the 1890's and early-1900's, school districts paid local farmers to drive wagonettes, sometimes covered, sometimes not, to drive a route to pick up school children who lived too far, were too young, or just did not want to walk. Calcasieu Parish and then Jefferson Davis Parish had a several wagonettes in the early-1900’s, serving the surrounding communities of Jennings, Elton, Fenton, and Roanoke.

Hathaway never had horse-drawn wagonettes as school buses supplied by the parish. But it is safe to assume parents or older kids drove a wagon to school and picked up other kids along the way. It was not until the late-1920's, when two motorized school buses were provided by the parish for Hathaway schools. At that time, Hathaway, Crochet, and Grand Marais were the schools open in Hathaway. In the late-1920’s, early-1930’s, Mr. John Folkland and Mr. John Labouve, the first bus drivers in Hathaway, drove Model-T chassis, open-aire buses with wooden frames, canvas canopies and sunshades. The photo below is an example (i.e., not Hathaway) of a school bus from the late-1920's/early-1930's.


By 1940, Hathaway had four steel-framed school buses with windows, much like the bus in the photo below. With motorized buses, pavement to drive on, and free textbooks, the stage was set for consolidation. Consolidation was favored by the parish because maintaining many separate structures was costly. As noted in the quote from John McNeese's 1906-07 report, above, roads would make consolidation from one-room school houses to a centralized school an easier sell. But consolidation did not occur until twenty-five years after Jefferson Davis Parish was split from Calcasieu Parish. As Mr. McNeese predicted, after roads were improved, consolidation soon followed. In 1938, less than two years after what was then Highway 25 (now Highway 26) was improved, the four one-room school houses serving the rural communities in Ward III of Jefferson Davis Parish were centralized to the current location of Hathaway High School.

For a detailed account of consolidation of schools in Jeff Davis Parish, read Three Decades of Public Education in Jefferson Davis Parish from 1913 to 1940, by Luke Harry Richard, available at:

http://library.mcneese.edu/depts/archive/FTBooks/richard.htm

Grand Marais

Updated November 28, 2008



"Marais" means marsh or swamp and before landowners drained their land for more farmland, the Grand Marais was 500 feet across in certain sections and only one to two feet deep (above). When landowners began taming the Grand Marais, water levels increased and would then drain south. The building water drainage began to cut a path. Over time the path became more defined and eventually the Grand Marais became a bayou within banks and was dredged regularly.

In the Hathaway area, the Grand Marais was first settled by Don Luis Garrique in 1859. Lufroi Landry about the same time, possibly earlier. Both of their families appear in the 1860 Federal Census in a location consistent with where they would homestead. Both Don Luis and Lufroi are listed in the 1860 Louisiana Agricultural Census as well. The names that surround them in both are identical. Don Luis is listed with 20 acres improved, 20 acres unimproved. His assets included $300 in cash, $60 worth of implements and machinary, and 570 head of cattle. Lufroi is listed with 60 acres of improved land and 260 unimproved. His assets included $7500 in cash, $350 worth of implements and machinary, and 550 head of cattle.

1860 Census - Calcasieu Parish - Page 40 and 41
20 July 1860

Don Louis Garre-45-M-W-Farmer(trade)-600-750(assets)-La.(born)
Eloise Garre -35-F-W-La.
Eliza Garre -14-F-W-La.
Rosalia Garre -12-F-W-La.
Louis Garre -9-M-W-La.
Roseline Garre -8-F-W-La.
Don Louis Garre -5-M-W-La.
Marie Garre -3-F-W-La.
Simeon Garre -1-M-W-La.

Lufroi Landry-58-M-W-Farmer-1500-10,000-La.
Modeste Landry -45-F-W-Spinner-La.
Alice Landry -18-F-W-La.
Frozin Landry -16-F-W-La.
Rosalie Landry -14-F-W-La.
Marie Landry -12-F-W-La.
Ozime Landry -10-M-W-La.

Don Luis and the widow of Lufroi both homesteaded in January of 1869. By the 1870 Census, a few other families had settled that would make homestead claims in the Grand Marais area:

1870 Census - Calcasieu Parish (2nd Ward) -Page 19
10 June 1870


Garrigues, Don Louis 56 M W farmer 200 500 La.
Eloise 40 F W K H La.
Louis 19 M W farm laborer La.
Roselia 17 F W K H La.
Marie 14 F W K H La.
Duplessis 13 M W farm laborer La.
Simeon 11 M W farm laborer La.
Modeste 9 F W La.
Elizabeth 19 F W La.

Landry, Lufroid, Mrs 70 F W farmer 300 La.
Ozeme 19 M W farm laborer La.
Marie 21 F W K H La.

Perkins, Terence 39 M B farmer 60 60 La.
Henriette 43 F M K H La.
Marcelitte 15 F M K H La.
Charles 12 M M farm laborer La.
Valsin 11 M M La.
William 9 M M La.
Terence 7 M M La.

Lopez, Victorin (Francois) 44 M W farmer 200 400 La.
Arthemise 36 F W K H La.
Marie 17 F W K H La.
Francois 14 M W farm laborer La.
Julie 13 F W K H La.
Leontine 10 F W La.
Eve 8 F W La.
Clemeine? 6 F W La.
Alexina 2 F W La.
Deresin 1 M W La.

Below is a chart showing the original homesteaders of Grand Marais (section, acreage, cost, and date of sale are included).

[Editor's note: The "Original Settlers of Grand Marais" image needs work. For now, this is as large as I can make it. Please use the "Zoom" function on your browser to enlarge]

Don Luis Garrique was the son of Juan Thomas Francois Garrido, a descendent of Juan Garrido, who immigrated from Spain in 1777 under a grant from King Carlos III. Don Luis was born in St. Martinville, Louisiana, February 12, 1815. He married Eloise Modest Landry on April 4, 1845 in Opelousas Church. His wife was a descendent of Acadian immigrants of the 1760's. Don Luis and his wife lived their early-child-rearing years in the Grand Coteau-Opelousas area. They would have eight children there; five of them boys; their first child was born in 1846; their ninth child, a girl, was born on their Grand Marais homestead in November 1861.

A trading post between Lake Charles and Vermillionville (now Lafayette) was established on the Don Luis Garrique homestead. Mrs. Emily Lejeune Doucet, who lives on the original homestead, recalls her grandfather telling her that Indians traded furs and other items for supplies under a tree on her property. She confirms that plowing near that tree has brought several arrowheads and other artifacts. This is further confirmed by Choctaw and Alabamos Indians recorded in the 1870 Census on Bayou Nezpique. The family opened a general store that sold staple items like flour and sugar. For many years, the store was run by Mrs. Emily's great-grandfather, Simeon Gary (the eighth child of Don Luis and his wife), until his death in July of 1944.

The store was on a stage coach trail running north-south from Andrus Cove (Lake Arthur) to China (Elton) and was on an off-shoot trail from the main trail running from Welsh to Opelousas via the Bayou Nezpique. This off-shoot trail continued east and intersected with the several trails running north/northwest that intersected with other trails running north/northeast from Jennings through the Hathaway prairies.

Duplisse Gary, another son of Don Luis Garrique, hired a tutor in his home. Over time he invited area children to attend school sessions. Once the need was clear, land was set aside and the community built the first one-room school house in the Hathaway area. This school became part of the Imperial Calcasieu school system. During its existence, the Grand Marais school had two locations. The first (left, looking north) was nearly a stone’s throw from the Grand Marais Bayou on the Duplisse Gary farm, which would now be about four miles north of Jennings about a half-mile west of Highway 26 on Koll Road.

In the Winter of 1925, the school was moved a mile north on a log sled to the Moise Doucet farm (right, looking east). Children attending the Grand Marais school had last names of Doucet, La Bauve, LeJuene, Koll, Dommert, Gary, Landry, St. Germaine, Lopez, and LeVergne, among others and were taught by Esther Toener and Ethel Ritter, and later by Eliza Faulk.

In 1928, Lois Gary started First grade at the Grand Marais school. She was the great-granddaughter of Don Luis Garrique. Simeon Gary was her Great Uncle. Her grandfather was Don Luis' sixth child. Her father was Alexis Gary (who lived April 1881 to December 1936).



During her time at the Grand Marais school, Mrs. Lois remembers the school house was divided into two rooms and there were two teachers, Ms. Ruth Bibbens and Ms. Florence Tutell. There were three classes in each classroom throughout the day, with a morning and afternoon recess, and an hour lunch recess in the middle of the day. She played games like hopscotch, jump rope, dodge ball, and even some baseball during recess. For lunch, she usually ate leftovers from supper the night before.

Mrs. Lois also went to the Hathaway school through the 7th Grade. Her teacher at the time was Mr. Frank Bryan. He had grown up in Buckey, Louisiana (northwest of Alexandria) and began teaching there when he was 17 years old for no salary. Instead, his payment was to be taught high school subjects from the teacher. From there it was on to to State Normal school in Natchitoches for a twelve-week certification program. His first salaried job was in Rapides Parish where he taught one classroom with several children at each grade level through the Seventh Grade. Not long after this, he moved to the Hathaway area to be closer to his brother. His experience in Rapides certainly must have helped him at the Grand Marais school. And it was not long before he was assigned to teach in Jennings. When he left, Mrs. Lois followed him, but there were many more kids at the schools there. Mrs. Lois remembers the larger crowds made her lose interest in school and she did not continue. Instead she stayed home the help her family on the farm.

In the Winter of 1938, the school house was moved to join the other area schools consolidated to the Hathaway location (below, looking north - note the brick school in the background). The Grand Marais school house would be placed on the south corner of the grounds. The school house was used for first and second grades.